An Angel Watching Over Them
by Scarlet Snidget
Summary: The story of To Kill a Mockingbird, from beginning to end, told from Boo Radley's Point of View.


A/N: This was originally written for school, for recognition of my comprehension of the story. To Kill a Mockingbird from Boo Radley's point of view.

Disclaimer: I do not own To Kill a Mockingbird or any of its wonderful characters.

"_Boo" Radley_

I had always loved to watch them. I had done so for their whole lives. They had become my companions, my friends, as I sat by my window every day. I felt as if they would never know, though. I knew they acknowledged my presence within this house. I saw them look at my house, and I saw them play their games and try to give me things through my window. I knew their father was afraid my family might be offended. Maybe they would be, but I always thought the kids were entertaining. They were so innocent.

I remember the day Scout was being rolled down the street in an old tire by her brother and their friend. She rolled right into our front yard. I thought it was so funny to watch her; then I realized she heard me laughing. She looked right at my window, but she didn't see me. That was when I wanted to go outside the most. But I was too afraid. All the times I'd been outside before, I'd gotten into trouble, and I didn't want any trouble.

Yet I couldn't resist the kids. The first time I had the chance to do something for them was the night that they snuck into our yard. My brother Nathan nearly shot Jem, and while everyone was gathered in front of our house to hear what Nathan had to say, I did some sneaking around of my own. I retrieved the pants that Jem had wriggled out of as he fled. They were tangled in the wire fence and had torn. I took them back to the house and sewed them up; as soon as Nathan went to bed, I took them back out and laid them over the fence where Jem had lost them. He came back for them; I watched.

I loved the feeling that I was a part of their lives, a silent friend, so I started leaving presents in the knothole in the tree in front of our house. I'd sneak out at night and stick something in the tree for them to find. Whatever I thought they might like, from an old pocket watch to chewing gum to an old spelling bee medal. I carved two children out of soap that looked like Jem and Scout, and I thought how nice it would be for them to see. So I gave them those, too. I hoped they would like them.

Then one night Nathan caught me, and I was in trouble again. He sounded just like our father, reprimanding me for being wasteful, just sticking things in the tree for anyone to come along and take. And the soap! He was terribly irked with me when he found out I'd taken our soap, "chopped it up," and left it outside.

I told him all those things were presents, and he told me that if I wanted to give a present, I should give it to the person face-to-face. He knew I never would. So he plugged up the knothole in the tree, and I couldn't give presents anymore.

That wasn't enough to keep me from the kids, though. I couldn't give presents to them, but I still watched them and looked for an opportunity to do something, _anything_. Finally, I found the opportunity.

It was the first real winter in a very long time, and tragedy struck a neighbor. It was the night that Miss Maudie Atkinson's house burnt down. It seemed like the whole town was there to help. The men were being warmed by the fire that engulfed to house, but Jem and Scout were a safe distance away from the house, which left them in the cold. They seemed oblivious, so I took my very own blanket, slipped up behind them, and placed the blanket over Scout's shoulders. She grasped it gently, not even perceiving my silent gift. That was how I liked things, though—silent. I went back inside, knowing that her brother was smart enough to figure things out.

I never thought I'd be able to meet them face to face. I didn't have the courage. They knew I existed, they knew I cared, but they never knew me. No matter how much interest the children had in me, I could never bring myself to meet them. I would dream things up, wishing that someday I could walk by the Finches' house and casually comment to Scout on what nice weather we were having. But I knew I wasn't a normal person like that, that I could never do that. I would never meet them in person—so I thought.

My courage came on Halloween night. I'd slipped outside after the lights went out in the high school. I heard yells from the schoolyard, two yells that I recognized. From the sound of them, I could tell that something was wrong. I barely even thought of my fears, all I could think of was Jem and Scout, my two best friends. I ran as fast as I could to the schoolyard.

I saw easily in the dark; it was the only time I came outside anymore. And I heard them. I heard the sickening crunch of bone breaking, and I heard Jem's scream. I saw the paint of Scout's costume as it was being crushed by another figure. I reached for the 

figure and wrenched him off of Scout. It was then that I somehow realized he had a knife in his hands. I don't know how it happened, but during our struggle, the knife ended up sticking between his ribs. Maybe I did it, or maybe it happened when he fell; I don't know. I heard him cough and sputter and fall to the ground, though, and knew I could move on.

I heard Scout and knew that she was alright; it's just that I didn't reply to her. I found Jem lying on the ground, gingerly lifted him up, and carried him back to his house. Mr. Finch look shocked to see me, but even more shocked to see his son like that. I fell into the shadows for a while, at least until after the doctor and the sheriff had come.

Then Scout pointed me out, looking curiously at me. She paused before a look of understanding dawned on her face. I couldn't help but smile as she said, "Boo." Her father corrected her, but he never needed to. I'd never had any nickname or pet name from anyone in my family. If I was Boo to her, that was fine with me.

She led me out to the porch where we sat together, listening to Mr. Finch and Mr. Tate discuss what had occurred. The attacker had been Bob Ewell; I'd heard lots of bad things about him. He was dead. I was petrified when they found my part in it, but I was very relieved to know that I wouldn't have to face anyone about it.

After that, I got to see Jem up close one last time. Scout allowed me to pet Jem's head. With one hand on Jem's head and the other in Scout's beside me, my friends were suddenly so tangible, so real, so close. I felt so cared for. Then I knew I had to leave; it was all over that quickly. I looked at Scout before going, still holding onto her hand. I didn't want to go, but they say that all good things must come to an end.

"Will you take me home?" I whispered. Those were the only words I ever got to say to her, but I felt like they expressed everything that I'd ever felt. She put her hand in my arm and walked with me to my porch. I went inside, and she never saw me again.

I still watched them, though—my best friends. I watched them grow up. I felt good, having been a part of their lives. I felt important, having saved them. I felt special, having been their friend—me, Arthur Radley. But to them, I was Boo.

A/N: Please review.


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